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Thomas Snijders Dec 2019
I’ve got to keep giving my mind a voice
And letting it scream through whispers,
Not fighting to be the loudest
But to ensure it can stay afloat in an ocean
That is ready to make it drown.

I would rather die fighting in the trenches
Then come back alive to a world that is ungrateful.

My soul empties itself on this paper
And then, out into the world it goes
Ready to get filled again.

The way I write is different
From the way I cry.
Yet I keep on using
My tears to write.

Like a butterfly, I too,
Will now be free
From this world of
To our voices.
Chicken Feb 2019
I still got the wars stuck in my throat
Gotta dig,
dig into it like a trench.

Dig for victory
They told us all
Ain’t really diggin nothin’ but graves.

My secret cry
No one heard
No one knew

My secret cry
No one heard
No one knew

I wanted to go home.

All of the bits
that couldn’t be said

I’ll sing em instead
I’ll sing em instead

All of the letters
that couldn’t be read

I’ll sing em instead
I’ll sing em instead

All of the tears
That were secretly shed

I’ll sing em instead
I’ll sing em instead

I’ll pull on
my boots
again in the morning.
Aimee McDonald Dec 2018
I've seen your trenches,and I've seen your graves,
I've heard of your weapons and heard of your slaves,
I've imagined the fumes and imagined the rain,
I've imagined the sights but can't imagine the pain.
Not from bayonets,nor shrapnel blasting out,
But from the vision of the gunshot taking the Fritz down.
From the riddling guilt as your hand pulled the trigger,
Which wiped out the unknown,young German figure.
From the nightmares of his family collapsing at the news,
That their beloved son had succumbed to his wounds.
You look over these beaten fields awash with confusion,
Wondering how on Earth humans partake in such delusion.
How they thought,somehow,it'd be the most fitting plan:
"To sort out all of the world's problems-set man after man!".
You walked out on that field regardless, till your last dying breath.
And you made sure,under all circumstances, to fight until death.
For this I'm forever grateful and still can't suffice,
Why we give you two minutes a year, when you gave us your life.
Erin Beer Nov 2018
In 1914 when the cold wind blew,
Through no-mans land with a familiar tune.

In two opposing languages,
Both sides sang,
In perfect harmony,
Their voices rang out.

Two brave souls who started it all,
Risked their lives for a game of ball.

Germany and UK played side-by-side,
Enemies who became friends despite their divide.

A Christmas truce and a miracle of war,
A handshake that would become much, much more.
WW1 truce - Christmas day game of football. Inspired by the Morrison's 2014 advert.
Chicken Jul 2018

The sweetness of your face

Let me spare you the misery

I’m just a wounded animal

Let the stench from my sores

Be your victory.

Make a run for it now,
go quickly,

Quick march on the double

I’m still fighting, blow for blow.


The sweetness of your face

Let me spare you the misery

I’m just a wounded animal

Let the stench from my sores

Be your victory.
‘My sweetheart keeps visitin me, and I’m down in the trenches, I don’t want er to get hurt and she’s more concerned about seein me, bringin me lumps of sugar, the stench of my rottin’ flesh ain’t even keepin’er away’
Dear  Mother,                                                              Thursday, Nov 28, 1916  

Thank  you  for  your  pleasant  letter,  it  has  clearly  made  me  feel  at  home  again.  I  have  received  it  on  December  1,  1916.  Please  say  hello  back  to  the  rest  of  the  family  with  many  hugs  and  kisses  for  as  this  letter  may  be  the  last  in  my  midst of  despair.  All  the  letters  I  received  from  you  are  in  my  keepsake  box  and  I  am  always  reading  them  every night  before  I  go  to  sleep.  Today  we  have  been  training  with  the  legion  and  had  sweet  red  wine  with  leftover  dry  biscuits  to  keep  us  warm  throughout  the  night.  There  is  not  much  food  except  for  hard  biscuits,  coffee,  cheese  and  apple  cider  vinegar.  Oh  mother,  how  I  dearly  miss  you  and  Nona.  I  wish  there  was  a  heating  pad,  my  body  is  sore,  especially  my  legs  and  arms. 1  week  ago,  I  hurt  my  arm, the  nurse  told  me  it  could  of  been  worse.  Right  now  I’ am  tired,  trying  to  keep  my  eyes  open  to  finish  this  letter.  My  dear  friend  Johnny  Scampi  died  2  days  ago,  I  am  saddened  with  anguish  and  irritability  to  perform  daily  tasks.  The battlefront  has  many  ******  soldiers  laying  on  the  cold  front  ground.  At  the  time  of  23:00  I  need  to  get  my  rest  so  me  and  the  legion  can  wake up  rejuvenated  for  the  next  day  to train  in  the  trenches  before  France  comes  to  attack  the  battlefront.  Mice  are  lingering  inside the trench  trying  to  find  shelter,  I  have  never  felt  so  afraid  and  lonely  in  my  entire  life.  Soldiers  are  catching  sickness,  lice  and  mental  disabilities  which  have  most  of  our  veterans  sent  back  to  their  families.  Captain Kirk  tells  us,  “You  must  be  strong,  be  a  WARRIOR!  Be  the  man inside  you,  each  and  everyone”.  He  sure  knows  how  to  keep  the  soldiers  motivated.  Tonight  it  is  snowing,  the  sky  is  cloudy  with  a  pink/purple  haze  and  winters  wind  blowing  ashes  and  dust  near  and  inside  the  trenches,  a  little  fire  has  been  lit  to  keep  us  warm.  50, 000  navy  died  and  are  expected  to  live  as  little  up  to  3  weeks.  Germany  has  released  new  carbon  chlorine  gases  and  given  Austria  also  Italy  equipment  and  how  to  survive  when  it  bursts  out  in  the  front.  A  horse  is  out  in  front  of  our  trench  in  case  of  emergencies.

I  have  never  in  my  life  felt  the  truth  of  a  sin  in  front  of  my  Lord God,  each  night  I  pray,  hoping  one  day  to  come  home  safely  and  live  a  normal  life,  which  is  to  be  with  my  family  once  again.
I know this isn't a poet, but i thought to post this for feedback and if i need any corrections through my trench letter of WORLD WAR 1. Thank you. Please comment below on your thoughts.
Arcassin B Jan 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

If heaven had a green light,
Telling you to go for what you want,
Dividing all the sacrificed from the saved,
State of limbo doesn't seem right,
We always don't get what we want in life,
You'd rather have a life,Then all your family looking at your grave,
Safe to say man! that kid was brave,
I had a wish for you,
It seem to fade away,
Almost knowing things were true,
So the lies will fade away too.
I love death
Steve Nov 2014
Poor Frank
Our poor Frank
A willing young lad from the 'pool
My granny’s little brother
The eye-light of his mother
Off to France where Kitchener led
The war to end all wars they said
Christmas indeed but Christmas in dread

Poor Frank
Poor willing Frank
Who knew life could be so cruel
My granny’s little brother
Tore the heart from his mother
Off to France to fight the war
Who knows what terrors his young eyes saw
Who even knows what that ****** war was for

Poor Frank
Our poor Frank
Yet he came home to walk up the path
“Frank’s home, Frank’s home!” my granny’s sister's screeched
And the girls all jostled and laughed - and ran to the door
But Frank, poor Frank, wasn't there
Poor Frank, he would never come home anymore.

My granny’s little brother
From the womb of his poor mother
To the blood rich fields lost in France.
1914-2014 Lest we forget. This is from a story my granny told me (often) of her youngest brother, Frank. She only ever referred to him as 'our poor Frank' She took his memory to the other end of the century and swore he came home one last time. Now he is here today with you.
chris m Jul 2013
The battle is won, the war is lost
And at what cost?
The heart of a boy
Only built to destroy

No matter what he tried
                                         He tried
No matter who was right
                                              Who was right?
No matter if he lied
                                                            ­     He lied
No matter, there was a fight
                                                           ­                 There was a fight

And his war raged on and on
Lovers present and lovers gone
The battle is won, and the tears pour on

A wounded heart, a wounded soul
All alone in no man’s land
The enemy, strong, took its toll
Left his friends to disband
The girl in his pocket can’t save him now
From these hellish sights and hellish sounds

The battle is won, but the war is lost
And at what cost?
The heart of a boy
Only made to love and destroy

— The End —